


Counting On It

by cruisedirector



Category: Smallville
Genre: Awkwardness, Crushes, Drabble Sequence, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-23
Updated: 2004-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark discovers dating by numbers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting On It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karelian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karelian/gifts).



> Five linked drabbles. I didn't use any names, so you can't pin anything on me.

Seven, fourteen, twenty-one, and you're still not sure whether enough minutes have passed for you to phone him. Whether or not he's there, his machine will log your number. And if he _is_ there, he'll know why you're calling so soon.

He must know anyway. You're sure he heard what you couldn't say before you awkwardly said goodnight, which wasn't what you wanted to say at all. But he let you take the coward's way out and told you he'd see you tomorrow.

It's almost "tomorrow" now. Maybe he has made it home already. Maybe he's waiting for your call.

~*~

Four, five, six, and you suspect he isn't going to pick up the phone no matter how many times you let it ring. Maybe he's _not_ home yet. Maybe he got home twenty minutes ago and went straight to bed.

Or maybe he went out for a drink with someone else. Maybe he went home with someone else. Maybe he took your silence to mean that you'd thought it over and decided you wouldn't, or couldn't, not just tonight but ever.

Maybe he's simply not interested, and no matter how many times you call him, he's not going to...

"Hello."

~*~

And-one, and-two, and-three, and you've got to say something, or he'll think he picked up the phone too late and hang up. Or he'll think you panicked and hung up.

But because his machine will tell him who it was, it's too late for panic. You need to get your shit together and start talking _now_.

So, "It's me," you manage.

"Thought it might be." He sounds tired but not angry.

"You weren't asleep, were you?"

"Not yet. Guess you weren't either." His voice quivers with amusement. "Want to tell me why, or do you just want to come over?"

~*~

Three turns, two, one, then you're at the mansion, pulling the truck to a halt before you start thinking about what you're going to say when you see him.

You owe him an explanation for why you couldn't talk to him when he was right there smiling at you. Especially since you had to call him later, in the middle of the night. Too few words and he might think you're thoughtless. Too many and he'll...

The door opens before you reach it. No doorman tonight, no servants, just him. He grins and beckons you inside. And kisses you hello.

~*~

Five buttons down the front of your shirt, three on your jeans, two at your wrists, and he's got most of your clothes in a pile on his living room floor. Cleverly, he's wearing nothing but briefs and a t-shirt, so you don't have as much work to do. His hands are warm and soothing on your skin.

"Tell me if it's too fast," he says with a complicit grin when he lets you take a breath. Returning his smile, you blush as he asks, "Or did you doubt I wanted this?"

Then you laugh. "I was counting on it."


End file.
